


Dead And Gone.

by rubyrosettared



Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hal/OC, Old Ones, Own Characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 08:30:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1259728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyrosettared/pseuds/rubyrosettared
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Opening in 1942, an Old One is coming to town and Emma Jennings has been entrusted to look after him. During their meeting she catches a glimpse of a man clawing his way to the surface, one she will meet again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is up at the other site under the same name. The OC's have had their names changed and the story has been brushed up here and there. All errors are my own and are unintentional.

**Chapter One.**

**_London, 1942._ **

The club is doing a brisk business tonight.

Emma Jennings casts a jaded eye across the myriad of tables dotted around her.  From her position at the bar she can see that all of the tables are occupied; the bartenders are busy as are the waitresses and the hostesses. She watches them mill in between the tables, smiling, charming and serving. This is how she likes it. Takings will be exceptionally good tonight and Joseph will be pleased.

She turns slightly and reaches for her martini glass and lifts it to her lips and she takes a sip.  She turns her attention to the band on the small stage, at the couples dancing on the floor in front of them. Satisfaction swells inside of her.

The country may be embroiled in yet another world war but its citizens still liked to celebrate and have fun.

Her sharp blue eyes take in the patrons. The vast majority of them are vampires, taking advantage of the devastation going on around them and hoping for rich pickings. The majority of their guests are human and unsuspecting.  It doesn’t bother her; it’s her pockets that they’re helping to line. She bites back a smile and takes another sip and contemplates the urge for something ‘stronger’ and she wonders what Joseph has in his extensive cellars for her.

She’s distracted by the sight of Alfie, one of Joseph’s lackeys, heading towards her. She lowers her glass onto the bar with a quiet sigh when she recognises the expression on his narrow face. What does he want now? She waits until he gets to the bar.

“Evening Miss Jennings,” he greets with an air of nervous respect that always irritates her. She’s known Alfie for close to a century but he always greets her like this.

“What’s the problem Alfie?” she enquires without preamble.

“Mr Harper requests your company. He’s upstairs.” Emma’s eyes flick up to the balcony where Joseph likes to sit and hold court and be able to observe everything that is going on in his little fiefdom.  She sighs.

“Of course, I’ll be there in a moment,” she tells him and she watches him scuttle away. Emma frowns as she picks up her glass and she drains it dry.

Judging by the expression on Alfie’s face she thinks she’ll definitely be raiding Joseph’s cellars later this evening.

* * *

She makes her way towards Joseph’s table. There are over half a dozen guests seated there, men and women alike. She eyes the tuxedoed henchmen who stand guard close by and they eye her back but they just nod as she walks past. Emma Jennings is Joseph’s right hand man and most trusted advisor. It’s almost unheard of within the vampire community for a woman to hold that amount of influence with an Old One, especially this Old One who is second only to Mr Snow in age. She’s heard all of the gossip that has done the rounds and mostly it doesn’t bother her. A lot of the time it’s a title that she enjoys, the rest of the time it’s a bit of an annoyance, especially when she’s on the scent of something…interesting.

“Joseph,” she greets calmly and watches the tall black haired man who is her sire and mentor turn his head. He sees her and his blue eyes light up with a smile. He replaces his champagne glass on the white linen clothed table and removes his arm from the back of his companion’s chair as he rises to his feet in one elegant move. Distractedly Emma wonders where Frances is this fine evening because she most definitely isn’t here. Frances is his long term companion and the two women do not like each other.

“Em! Good of you to join us!” he announces, still smiling. Emma watches him as he skirts the table to stand beside her. He knows that she hates her name being shortened like this but he still does it. She wonders how he would react if she decided to call him Joe in front of all his friends and colleagues. She swallows down the irritation instead. It’s a waste of time reminding him.

“Alfie said you needed to speak to me?”

“And indeed I do. Walk with me.” He touches her arm and then slides a familiar arm across her shoulder. Emma stiffens as she glances briefly at it. No one touches her without her permission but she makes an exception for Joseph. They begin to walk.

“What’s the problem?” she enquires as they begin to walk and she sees the surprise cross her sire’s face.

“Problem? Why must you think that there’s a problem?”

“Because you asked to see me and you only ever _ask_ to see me when there’s a problem, so who’s upset you this time?” They pause several feet away from his table and Emma turns to look at him. Joseph is a tall handsome bloke with keen blue eyes, short neat black curly hair, a square jaw and broad shoulders. It’s everything she should distrust in a bloke but strangely enough in him she doesn’t. They rub along reasonably well together. She benefits from their friendship well enough by association and that’s all it is, a friendship.

“There’s no problem Emma, no quite the opposite. We’ve been told to expect a visitor this evening, a very _important_ visitor.” His eyes gleam with anticipation and Emma frowns at him.

“Oh? Like who?”

“Henry Yorke. Lord Harry himself is gracing us with his presence.” He lowers his voice confidentially and he waits. Surprise makes Emma widen her eyes marginally. Lord Harry himself? 

“ _Really_ …he’s back in the Smoke?” Joseph nods.

“Just for a day or two and Mr Snow wants his _enfant_ _terrible_ feted, fed and kept entertained. That’s when I thought of you my dear, you’d be perfect.” He grins and Emma barely refrains from rolling her eyes.

“Oh great, babysit some kid? No thanks.” She turns to leave but Joseph’s hand clamps down heavily onto her shoulder.

“You don’t understand Em, Lord Harry is special, a vampire of considerable reputation. He’s an Old One like you and I.” He stares into her eyes and he waits.

“Old One?” Again, she’s heard rumours but nothing substantial, just a bit of tittle-tattle here and there, some vampires are worse than old women for their gossip.

“He’s four hundred and thirty years old give or take a year or two and if Mr Snow himself instructs us to take care of him then that’s what we do.”

“He’s big enough to look after himself, let someone else entertain him; I’ve got other things to do.” She turns to leave again but pauses again when Joseph’s fingers tighten almost painfully on her shoulder. She slowly turns his head, looks at the hand and then up into his eyes.

“I’ve already made my decision Joseph, let go of me,” she instructs in a deadly cold tone but he doesn’t and Emma sighs loudly in frustration.

“Why are you so insistent? Because the order came from on high? Have you forgotten that you don’t _have_ to do anything Snow tells you, you’re what, a century younger than him? And I’m fifty years older than this kid, which means that I don’t really have to do anything either. So just let somebody else look after him.” Annoyance laces her voice. Joseph shakes his head impatiently.

“It’s out of the question I’m afraid. I don’t mind doing this; it means that Snow will owe me a favour in the future. Trust me, he’ll be here soon and you’ll get the opportunity to meet him. At least have a drink with him and if you still aren’t interested then fair enough but meet him at least?” Joseph doesn’t beg or wheedle, he’s an Old One so he’s used to his every command being obeyed and Emma hears the directive clear in his voice even though he’s camouflaged it well. “One drink, that’s all I’m asking.”

Emma sighs and she wonders why she even bothers saying no to this bloke, it’s plain he doesn’t listen.

“Fine, _one_ drink, that’s all and I’m gone alright?” she retorts sharply and Joseph grins at her and pulls her against him with a chuckle.

“Atta girl Em. You’ll like him I promise.” Somehow Emma doubts it but she offers a grim smile in response.

“Have you met him, this _enfant terrible?_ ” She mimics Joseph’s tone as they walk back to the table.

“Not personally but i've heard a tale or two.”

“So what’s he supposed to be like then?”

“Fucking terrifying. Want some champagne?” A chair has materialised beside his own and Joseph guides her towards it and pushes her down onto it. She sits down and her eyes take in the other guests, at the vampires and their female hangers on. She has to wonder about why these women latch themselves onto people like them; it never ends well for them. One or two of them are already half gone on the expensive champagne that is flowing like water, a bit of luxury in a time of financial and emotional hardship. She watches as a glass of it materialises in front of it and she looks at it for a moment. She doesn’t care much for the stuff, now give her a glass of good aged single malt or a dry vodka martini and then she’s happy. This stuff is all kinds of pretentious but she accepts it and takes a sip, feeling the bubbles dancing on her tongue.

She wonders whether she’ll have long to wait until his nibs shows up.

She’s heard of Lord Harry, in their community who hasn’t? She knew that he was a bit of a pet of Snow’s too. She _hadn’t_ known that he was an Old One though and she wonders why she has to treat him with any kind of respect given the fact that she’s about fifty years his senior herself.

* * *

 She turns her head when she sees Joseph rise to his feet and leave the table once more. She watches as he approaches Alfie who is accompanied by two people, a young lady and a young gentleman. Emma frowns slightly. Joseph usually likes to be approached; it’s extremely rare for him to do the approaching. She watches how he turns and looks at her and his nod is very slight but the message is clear and Emma sighs quietly and gets to her feet and she slowly walks towards them.

The young man watches her steadily as she approaches the group.

The first thing that crosses Emma’s mind is that he looks incredibly young for someone supposedly higher up the food chain than most vampires. He’s clad in an immaculate black suit, snow white shirt and a dark red tie. He stands out because most of the clientele are clad in tuxedoes and evening dress. His hair is combed and oiled but his eyes are cold. Emma pauses beside Joseph without breaking eye contact. She’s got seniority on this upstart; let him be the first one to look away.

He doesn’t.

“Emma, this is Henry Yorke. Harry this is Emma Jennings, my second in command.” If Henry is surprised that Joseph’s second in command is a woman then he doesn’t show it.

“Mr Yorke,” Emma responds with a neutral nod. There’s a pause and she can almost hear his brain ticking over and then the younger vampire smiles and holds out a hand.

“Miss Jennings, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Please, call me Harry.”  Emma barely refrains from glancing at Joseph as she takes his hand and is even more surprised to discover his handshake is firm and strong. No kiss on the back of her hand and she realises that she likes that. She’s used to being assessed and dismissed by other colleagues and associates of Joseph’s so this makes for a pleasant surprise.

“Emma,” she echoes. Harry lets go of her hand and indicates his companion, a startlingly beautiful ice blonde with marble pale skin, very blue eyes and vivid red lips. She wears a knee length silk gown of matching blood red.

“Allow me to introduce my companion, this is Isabel.”  Joseph and Emma just nod at her.

“Won’t you come with us; we have a table ready for you. Champagne?” Joseph, ever the host guides Isabel to the table leaving Emma and Harry to bring up the rear.

Neither of them speaks as they follow Jacob and Isabel back to the table. A few of the guests there previously have departed leaving several empty chairs. They both watch Joseph make a production out of making sure that Isabel is seated with suitable pomp and circumstance.

“Is he always like this?” Harry murmurs in Emma’s ear and she looks at him, hearing the amusement in his tone.

“Just for the pretty ones, he likes to make an impression, given his age and all of that, he likes a bit of chivalry does Joseph,” she responds.

“Chivalry is a good thing, there’s not enough of it in today’s day and age,” Harry replies and Emma has to agree with him on that one. She watches as Harry draws out a chair and waits as she’s seated. Once she is, he sits down too. Presently the promised champagne arrives.

* * *

 

Emma quickly understands that Harry isn’t much of a conversationalist. Oh he responds to questions such as how he’s finding London, whether his accommodation is comfortable enough but other than that he offers little. He’s observant though, his eyes do not miss a trick. Emma watches how he takes in his surroundings, assessing, taking mental notes and remembering. She watches as one elegant hand reaches out to pick up his champagne glass. He picks it up and drains it of its contents. She sees the slight grimace as he replaces the glass.

“The champagne not to your liking Harry?” she enquires and he slowly turns his head and looks at her. He then shakes his head.

“Not really. Don’t get me wrong, I like it well enough but after a while it gets…”

“Boring?” Harry inclines his head and a faint smile lifts the corners of his mouth.

“Exactly.”  Emma smiles at him. Maybe there is something more to this so called enfant terrible after all.

“So what is your poison exactly?”

“Literally or theoretically?” Harry enquires and Emma’s smile widens to a grin.

“Both if you’re sharing but theoretically of course,” she responds.

“Of course. Whisky, single malt and the older the better,” he informs her. Emma regards him.

Yes, definitely more to this one than meets the eye.

* * *

  Harry watches Emma pour two generous measures into the heavy cut glass tumblers and place the bottle down between them. He reaches for the dusty bottle and examines the faded label with something close to approval on his face.

“Well I won’t ask which cellar you raided to acquire this little gem but the gesture is truly appreciated,” he tells her as he replaces the bottle on the table. Emma pushes one of the glasses towards him and picks up her own.

“You haven’t tasted it yet,” she remarks and sees the glint of humour in Harry’s eyes as he picks up the glass. He holds it briefly beneath his nose and delicately breathes in the fumes. He looks back at Emma and his eyes widen very slightly.

“Truly honoured,” he murmurs and takes a small sip. Emma watches the expression of bliss that crosses his young undeniably handsome face and satisfaction blossoms again.

“So Emma,” Harry turns slightly in his seat to face her more full on “how long have you been with Joseph?” He tilts his head his way but the older vampire doesn’t notice, he’s far too invested in holding Isabel’s attention and she of course is lapping it up. Emma glances at him.

“He’s my sire so I’ve always been with him; it’s been…a while.”

“ _Really_? You’ve felt no urge to spread your wings and fly for a bit?” Emma hears the curiosity in his voice. She shrugs restlessly.

“Never really needed to, to be honest. We rub along together, he gives me space when I need it, trusts my judgement and I trust his.” _Mostly._  She glances across the table and sees how Joseph is staring into Isabel’s blue eyes, one of his hands stroking her thigh and she isn’t exactly discouraging his attention either. She barely refrains from rolling her eyes, and with Harry seated across the table. She returns her attention to him to see him also regarding the pair and there is no expression on his face. It surprises her somewhat.

“Doesn’t that bother you?” She keeps her voice low and Harry turns his head and regards her.

“I should be asking you the same question,” he answers and Emma’s eyes widen.

“Do you think…” She shakes her head rapidly. It’s not the first time she’s been asked this, a man and a woman together like this, it’s only natural she supposes. Harry frowns slightly and he glances back at the pair across the table and he observes them for a moment or two.

“Even if it did bother me, Joseph is older than I am, it would be… _disrespectful_ to kick up a fuss about it.”

“She’s still your girl Harry.” Harry sighs quietly and picks up his glass and drains it of its contents.

“She really isn’t Emma, she’s anybody’s and I think tonight she’s Joseph’s. It’s what she does.” Emma regards him and realises that he’s speaking the truth, it really doesn’t bother him. She watches as he straightens in his seat.

“Do you know what? I’m getting a little bit bored, what do you do for entertainment around here?” His eyes warm marginally on a smile.

“You want to get out of here?”

“Oh God yes. Please tell me that you know of somewhere we could go?” Harry responds, the smile in his eyes remaining and Emma returns it with one of her own.

“I might do. What are you in the mood for?” She watches as Harry slowly grins.

“Whatever you have in mind,” he answers and Emma chuckles and shakes her head slightly.

“Fine, this way.” She gets to her feet. At her sudden movement, both Joseph and Isabel turn their heads in her direction.

“I’m going to show Harry a few of the sights. Don’t wait up now will you?” Emma tells her sire and instead of annoyance, he smiles almost triumphantly.

“I don’t intend to. Be sure to show Lord Harry the cellars while you’re at it.” He looks at his guest and there’s a distinct ‘cat got the cream’ expression on his face. Emma nods and she glances Harry’s way.

“Have fun Isabel and play nice,” Harry instructs Isabel in his quietly spoken way. Emma watches how Isabel just smiles and returns her attention to Joseph.

“Cellars?” Harry enquires in a quiet, curious tone as they leave the table. Emma glances over her shoulder at Joseph who is once more lost in the attentions of the seemingly fascinating Isabel. She looks back at Harry once more.

“It’s Joseph’s pride and joy and access is strictly by invitation only. Consider yourself honoured. The next time you’re in town I’ll show it to you.” They head towards the cloak room.

“Sounds fascinating,” Harry murmurs.

* * *

Harry accepts her coat from the cloak room girl and he holds it for her as she slides her arms into it and he rests it gently onto her shoulders. Emma murmurs her thanks as she turns and observes him and watches him slip his own overcoat on and hold his hat between both hands. Together they make their exit into a dark side street. Emma pauses and waits as Harry comes to stand beside her. The streets are deserted; the whole city is under a blackout warning. Emma looks up and down the street. The majority of humanity has chosen to remain indoors, huddled over fireplaces whilst listening to their radios and hoping for better news, encouraging news of victory, of an end to all hostilities. Emma smiles to herself as she buttons up her coat against the chilly breeze that is blowing. She remembers previous conflicts and none of them have ended particularly quickly. She turns her head as Harry joins her.

“Ready?”

“I’m ready, lead the way.” He offers an arm. Emma’s soft smile remains in place as she slips her hand into the crook of his elbow as they walk along the deserted side street onto the slightly busier main thoroughfare. Very few vehicles are on the road. The lack of lighting gives the area a slightly sinister edge. She pauses by the side of the road and glances once more at Harry.

“This way and watch out for the wardens, full of their own sense of self importance, they’re everywhere and get in the way at the most annoying of times. Bloody nuisances.” Once more she looks up and down the road before they hurry across. They merge into the deeper shadows.

The two vampires walk side by side. All around them the subversive exist, the ones who choose not to toe the line where rules and regulations are concerned. They’re brave or just incredibly stupid. Emma keeps a careful eye on them. They exist on the fringes of society, unloved and unmissed. They pass boarded up and bombed out buildings, rubble scattered across pathways. Carefully they pick their way across.

“Where are we going?” Harry enquires. Emma glances at him.

“Wait and see,” Her smile is slow and filled with secrets. “You won’t be disappointed.”


	2. Chapter Two.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma begins to get to know her charge....

**Chapter Two:**

From the outside it looks a little bit rundown and neglected. Emma pauses outside of it and smiles in satisfaction. She looks up; the building is several stories high and remarkably untouched by German bombs.

“Are we here?” She turns her attention to Harry and her smile widens.

“We are. Let’s get you inside.”  She holds out an arm for Harry to precede her and she follows him towards a heavily strengthened door.

They pause just outside of the entrance and Harry looks at Emma.

“What is this place?” he enquires.

“A regular chocolate box Harry, anything that you want and it’s catered for with no questions asked,” Emma responds and smiles when she sees the look of curiosity that crosses Harry’s face.

“Really? How can that be possible?” he enquires.

“Anything is possible when you’re one of us Harry, with the proper connections, influences and of course that ever present fear of retribution. Come on, let me introduce you to a few people and you can see what takes your fancy.” She touches his arm and knocks on the fortified front door and she waits. There’s a small hatch near the top and slowly it slides away to reveal a face. Then it’s closed again and both of them hear a multitude of locks being undone and eventually the door opens.

“Evenin’ Miss Jennings how’s tricks ma’am?” The tall burly vampire greets Emma with the correct amount of deference. His eyes flick to Harry and he seems to pause.

“Is this…”

“It is indeed Freddie and tricks are very good at the moment. Is Vi about?”

“She is.” He stands back and watches as the two vampires walk past him into a narrow unassuming corridor.  She sees how Harry’s head turns when he hears the muffled sounds of music and conversation coming through a doorway. She sees the spark of interest.

“Be a mate and tell her Emma’s here with a special guest.” She flashes a smile at Freddie and watches as first he shuts and bolts the door again and then heads away from them and through an equally anonymous door.

Barely two minutes have passed before the door reopens and they see a voluptuous woman with suspiciously chestnut brown hair appear. Her eyes take in Emma and they widen slightly when they encounter her guest.

“Jesus Emma, you’re a sight for sore eyes, Freddie said you’d brought along Lord Harry but I thought he was tellin’ porkie-pies. Bloody hell,” she breathes. She turns her attention to Harry and Emma swears that she bobs a little curtsey.

“It’s an honour to have you here at my humble establishment my Lord. Anythin’ you require an’ it’s yours.”

“Thank you…Vi is it? I’m sure I’ll find everything perfectly satisfactory,” Harry responds cordially and as Vi turns her back on them, the two vampires exchange a look and there’s a definite twinkle to Harry’s eyes as they follow her through the doorway. They enter a room that wouldn’t look out of place in an exclusive gentleman’s club with its dark wood panelling, flock wallpaper and high backed leather chairs. This is where the music is coming from. It plays unobtrusively in the background. The low hum of conversation momentarily ceases as the occupants take in the new arrivals. Emma regards them coolly and with slightly narrowed eyes. She knows a few of these faces and she knows that they recognise her. These vampires are what she calls the Old Fashioned Guard, the ones who do not approve of the fact that she has such power and influence, that she has the ear of the oldest vampire in the country. They will also be taking note of who she has with her this evening. They won’t talk if they know what’s good for them. She stares hard at one or two of them and eventually they look away. No, they won’t talk.

Word has still travelled quickly. As the two enter the comfortably appointed room, Emma sees the array of stunningly beautiful women who have accumulated. Her eyes range over them. Red heads, blondes, brunettes, they’re all here with acres of soft warm perfumed skin on display, their lips rouged, their hair either pinned up to expose their delectable long necks or left down to rest on petal soft pale shoulders.

They’re all whores and their speciality is catering to vampires. They seem to be drawn to the darker side of humanity and they’re paid well for their sins. Emma knows them all. She’s even brought a few of them to this establishment herself. She watches how their smiles dimple her way. They don’t recognise Harry and why should they; they’re paid to perform their tasks and not to ask questions.

They stand beside Vi and regard the girls.

“Any of them catch your eye my Lord?” Vi enquires solicitously and Harry glances briefly at Emma who nods slightly. She watches how Harry moves towards them, his eyes taking in their attire, their faces and the skin on display. He turns his head and he smiles faintly at Vi.

“They’re all utterly delectable, I don’t know who to choose,” he replies in a low voice. He turns back and his eyes alight on a willowy thin blonde. She’s a pretty thing with big green eyes and a cupid’s bow for a mouth. She wears a simple emerald green satin dress that flows over barely there curves and highlights her alabaster pale skin. His gaze sharpens on her face.

“And who are you?”

“I’m Mary sir,” she answers and he takes her hand and captures her wrist. He feels her pulse flutter beneath his experienced touch and another smile slips across his face.

“I’m Harry Mary; I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance.” He looks to Emma and Vi as he draws Mary out of the line-up. His eyes skim over her body, her attire in that intense manner of his but with the slightest of smiles on his face.

 “Utterly charming,” he murmurs as he looks back to Emma and nods again.

* * *

 

Emma keeps to the back of the group as they make their way to the suite of rooms that are kept for her and any guests she may bring along. The rooms are situated on the top floor and away from prying eyes and curious ears.

Presently Vi pauses outside of a white and gold painted door and she turns and looks at the small group.

“I do wish you’d rang ahead Emma, it would’ve given us the chance to make things exactly as you like it.” She looks faintly worried as she turns back and unlocks the door. Emma steps forward and takes the key from her.

“Not to worry Vi, it was a spur of the moment thing, no harm done.”

“Want the usual sent up?”

“That would be top notch and no disturbances you understand, under any circumstances.” Her eyes harden slightly and Vi nods nervously.

“Enjoy your stay Emma, my Lord.” She nods at Harry and then bustles back down the carpeted corridor and out of sight. Harry watches her until she’s out of sight before he returns his attention to Emma.

“What an extraordinary woman. I would never have imagined such a place like this existed.” Emma grins at him as they enter the suite. She wonders at the rarefied air that he must breathe if he doesn’t know about places such as this one.

“Oh there’s all sorts here if you know how and where to look Harry. They’re the souls of discretion here.”

It would be more than their lives worth to break that discretion.

* * *

 

 Emma and Harry follow Mary into a large carpeted sitting room furnished with two plump upholstered sofas and a single armchair beside a marble fireplace. There is a gramophone and a radio on a long low cabinet that graces the space between two narrow windows. There are two closed doors on either side of the sitting room and they watch Mary head to one of the bedrooms. Kate and Harry shrug off their coats and Emma watches as Harry places his carefully on the coat stand beside the front door. He turns and regards her and she sighs and follows suit. She looks at him.

“A word of warning Harry, now Mary knows what we are and she’ll be game for anything,  she’ll pretty much do anything for you but there is one cardinal rule that you _must_ observe and that is do not kill her otherwise Vi will do her nut do you understand me?”

“Perfectly,” Harry responds coolly and Emma pats his shoulder.

“Excellent.” She’s interrupted by a discreet tap on the door. She goes to answer the door and smiles when she sees the drinks trolley being wheeled inside.

“I’ll take it from here Pete, many thanks.” She takes a bill out of her evening bag and pushes it into his hand and escorts him back out the door. As she closes the door she catches Harry’s eye and she grins.

* * *

 

Time slips by and there is quite a little party going on in the sitting room.

Emma is seated on one of the sofas with a drink in her hand and she watches Harry interact with Mary. The girl’s eyes are almost closed and she’s barely moving to the music that’s playing on the gramophone. Her arms are draped loosely over Harry’s shoulders.

Harry himself has loosened up somewhat. Emma isn’t sure whether it’s the combination of good booze which is increasingly difficult to come across in the age of rationing or the fact that he’s with her and therefore doesn’t have to put on a show of sorts but his suit jacket has been slung across the back of the other sofa and his tie is unloosened with the top two buttons of his shirt undone.  His arms are around Mary and her head is resting against his shoulder. Together they’re kind of…swaying to the gramophone music.  Mary’s make-up is smeared and she looks to be barely conscious. Emma smiles to herself as she takes another sip of her scotch.

“How much has she had to drink?” she enquires and Harry glances down at Mary. He sees for himself that her eyes are closed and she’s a weight against him, her feet seem to be moving of their own volition.

“I think she’s had enough vodka to drown a Cossack army,” he comments with a smile. Emma chuckles dryly.

“She never could handle her booze that one,” she mutters.

“So speaks the lady with the scotch,” Harry replies and watches as she glances up at him and then back at the heavy crystal tumbler that she holds in one well-manicured hand. Harry notices that her fingernails are painted blood red and are a startling contrast to the severe black dress that she wears.

“Oh I can handle my drink alright. Once upon a time I used to drink the finest wines on offer but the older I got, the more my tastes changed. Joseph introduced me to whisky and I developed a taste for it.” She glances down at the amber coloured liquid once more and shrugs somewhat elegantly. “I find the hierarchy takes me more seriously when I drink this,” she tacks on. She looks up at him again to see that he has stopped moving to the music and he’s observing her instead. It’s slightly disconcerting.

“How along ago were you recruited?” he asks. He sees how she looks at him and she shifts very slightly in her seat.

“Haven’t you done your homework Harry? Don’t tell me that you didn’t come into Joseph’s club tonight without at least knowing everything there is to know about me or my sire?” she taunts softly.

“Humour me,” Harry replies softly. Emma holds his gaze for a moment before looking away.

“I’m close to five hundred years old Harry. Joseph is a century younger than Snow. Together they’re the two oldest of the Old Ones. I’ve survived this long by making myself indispensable and the fact that Joseph likes me enough to keep me around.”

“By rights he should be the one here this evening. Mr Snow’s instructions were that he be the one to welcome me but here I am with you instead.” He watches her expression change; her eyes become flint hard and any warmth in her expression trickles away.

“But here you are with me. Are you displeased?” she demands sharply. Harry continues to regard her.

“No, actually I’m not. Let’s not argue and spoil the evening Emma,” he gently chides. She doesn’t reply and instead drains her glass.

“I think you need to pay closer attention to your date for the evening.” She indicates Mary with her glass and he looks down and he sighs.

He manoeuvers her to the sofa and watches as she slumps bonelessly against the cushions. Her eyes struggle to open, struggle but fail. Harry sits down beside her. He glances at Emma over one shoulder and he smiles somewhat slyly. She watches as his eyes scorch black and he lifts one limp arm. He sinks his fangs somewhat delicately into Mary’s wrist and Emma feels her base nature struggle to the surface. She blinks it back down as she sees crimson red blood swell and trickle over Mary’s fingers and drip onto the floor. After a moment Harry releases his grip on her and lifts his head. Blood coats his lips and his eyes return to their normal state. He looks back at Emma and grins once more.

“My very own Bloody Mary, you should really try some, it’s delicious.” He holds out her arm to her as he uses his fingers to wipe his mouth and Emma just chuckles, their previous tension drifting away like mist in sunshine.

“Another time perhaps Harry,” she replies. She watches how he shrugs as he licks blood from his fingertips.

Mary hasn’t even opened her eyes; she’s too far gone to feel any kind of pain.

* * *

 

The sharp slap of a door slamming jolts Emma out of sleep. She sits up and she listens. She can’t hear a thing and after a moment it begins to concern her. She’s come to rely on her instincts over the years and the utter silence that greets her makes her uncomfortable. She slides out of the wide bed and pads out of her room.

The door to Harry’s room is wide open and she strides towards it. She hovers for a moment in the doorway before she takes a deep breath and she steps over the threshold.

She pauses at the foot of the bed and he looks down at what he sees. She swallows.

“Holy fuck,” she breathes.

Mary is stretched out on the bed, half buried amidst twisted sheets. Pillows are strewn about the bed and tossed onto the floor. Blood drenches the bedding, paints the wall above the bed and soaks into the carpet at her feet. She’s obviously very dead, her eyes stare at nothing and her body is beginning to cool. Blood still pumps weakly out what is left of her eviscerated throat. Emma swallows somewhat queasily.

Fucking _hell_!

She surveys the damage, her eyes skipping over the carnage. It won’t help to lose control over the situation. She’s been faced with and dealt with much worse. She shakes her head and sighs impatiently.

“For fuck’s sake, I’d’ve thought you’d have a bit more decorum than this Harry,” she mutters as she pulls the stained sheets across her body, making a tidy shroud.  She needs to make a phone call. Emma pulls irritated fingers through already untidy hair and turns and hurries into the living room, towards the telephone. Her mind is going at a million miles an hour.

Harry has killed this girl, after her specific instructions to him not to. Jesus Christ she thought that he had more control than that.

The phone call takes bare minutes. She replaces the receiver and drops down onto the sofa. She needs a fucking drink. She sighs as she prepares to wait for the clean-up squad as well as the arrival of Vi and her crew.

Fuck fuck _fuck._

It’s then she notices that Harry’s jacket is still draped across the back of the sofa and that his overcoat and hat are still on the stand. She frowns and gets to her feet. He returns to the bedroom and sees his shoes and socks discarded by the foot of the bed.

She wonders where he could’ve run off to. When she does find him, she’ll fucking kill him herself.

And then an idea comes to her.

 

 


	3. Chapter Three.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma finds the missing Harry...

**Chapter Three:**

It’s absolutely freezing cold and Emma wishes that she’d remembered to put her coat on. She slowly emerges onto the mainly flat roof and looks around. She doesn’t think that he would’ve gone out the front door, not without drawing attention to himself and not without his jacket and his shoes. She shivers as a cold breeze rips through her. Bloody hell it’s cold enough to freeze the arse off a polar bear tonight

She turns her head as she contemplates going back downstairs and it’s then that she sees him.

He’s standing on the building ledge, his back soldier straight and he’s staring straight ahead. Emma wouldn’t have seen him if it wasn’t for the whiteness of his shirt. It blows away from his body in the breeze like a flag.

“For fuck’s sake Harry,” she mutters beneath her breath and slowly she approaches him.

“That’s quite close enough,” Harry’s voice sounds imperious in the stillness but Emma hears how it trembles very slightly.

“What are you doing out here Harry?” she enquires calmly. She moves slowly towards the edge and peers over. “That’s a long way down,” she adds on and looks up at him. Harry is covered in blood; it drenches its way over his face, down his neck and over his chest and stomach.  His eyes are a little on the wild side, his hair dishevelled, locks of it falling over his forehead.  It makes him look strangely…vulnerable.

“It won’t kill you y’know, it’ll hurt like a bastard for a few weeks but won’t kill you.”

“Go away Emma,” Harry all but sighs but he doesn’t look at her. He just stares straight ahead of him and she wonders what it is he’s looking at, what it is that he’s seeing.

“I can’t do that Harry and you know it. Mr Snow wants you taken care of during your trip and can you imagine his reaction if we failed in our mission? I know I don’t want to upset Joseph, it’s a sight to behold seeing him in a rage.” She shivers and it’s not all together faked. She doesn’t want to witness any negative reaction from her sire over the loss of such an important guest.

“What if I said that I didn’t care what Snow or Joseph wanted?” Harry answers quietly and Emma regards him.

“Then I’d say you have a problem Mr Yorke because when Mr Snow expresses an opinion or issues an instruction then we listen. I thought you enjoyed being his enfant terrible?” That gets a reaction by the way Harry’s head snaps around and she sees his eyes narrow.

“Don’t you get tired of it all? All of the blood, the power, of seeing the _fear_ in other people’s eyes?” he demands, all of a sudden angry.

“Honestly? No. I was given this _gift_ by Joseph, this eternal life. Before he did then my life was utterly meaningless. It stretched uselessly ahead of me without respite until death through disease, starvation or childbirth claimed me. Don’t you think that we’ve been blessed, to be a witness to the changing of evolution and the power that it ultimately brings us? So they fear us, so what? Surely that’s our right?” Emma’s eyes glow with the memory of it. She moves a little bit closer to him. Trust Harry to decide to throw a wobbly tonight of all nights when it’s cold enough to freeze her unmentionables off.

“Don’t tell me that Lord Harry is slowly coming undone by it all?” she quietly goads. Harry remains silent and he looks away.

“I killed that girl,” he says instead.

“How many have you killed in your lifetime Harry? Has to be in the thousands am I right? They knew what they were getting into when they started working at this place. Why should that bother you now?” Harry looks back at her and his eyes widen slightly.

“But you said…” Emma shrugs nonchalantly.

“You’re not the first to kill in the throes of passion and you won’t be the last,” she tells him and Harry frowns at her.

“I’m not some callow youth whose behaviour you can excuse,” he hisses at her, insulted and with deliberate slowness she shrugs.

“Maybe not but this threatening to throw yourself off the roof business is boring and… attention seeking don’t you think? If you’d been intending to actually _do_ it then you’d be a bloodied heap on the ground about now. Funny that you’re not.” She waits.

“It wasn’t the…throes of passion that caused it…”

“Then what was it?” Emma enquires and she watches the strangest of looks cross Harry’s face.

“I…I’m not sure,” he confesses on a whisper.

“You’re a vampire for Christ’s sake Harry; you don’t _need_ an excuse or a reason. She was there, warm, human and with a heartbeat. Sometimes it can be too much, however old you are. Come on, get down from that ledge. We need to leave and leave now. It’s fucking freezing out here.” She holds out a hand and she waits expectantly.

A few more moments tick by and Emma watches as Harry frowns and then he turns.

She watches as he steps down from the ledge and despite it all she breathes a quiet sigh of relief. She then watches how Harry’s expression becomes curiously blank.

“Come on,” Emma tells him and puts a guiding arm across his back and leads him back inside. He’s ice cold to the touch.

Once in the light she can see how pale he really is. He’s bone white with dark shadows under both tear rimmed eyes. He’s trembling as together they walk back to the suite. As she had taunted him earlier, he looks quite undone.

His pace slows as they approach the suite. Emma glances at him and barely refrains from rolling her eyes.

“Come on, you can do it,” she tells him instead.

The clean-up squad have been. She realises this almost immediately. As she propels Harry towards the bathroom to clean up she notices that the bed has been changed, there is fresh linen in place and no trace of blood or the body anywhere. While Harry cleans up, she goes into her own room and finds the same. Everything is pristine and immaculate. She can’t help it, she’s impressed.

It’s as though they were never here.

* * *

 

Emma quickly finishes dressing and heads towards Harry’s room. His suit jacket has been laid neatly out on the bottom of the now spick-and-span bed and the bathroom door is firmly closed. She debates whether she should see if he’s alright. For a vampire she has noticed that he’s usually very much in control, his stillness is unnerving to say the least. She’s been waiting for a burst of real emotion; of rage, of _anything_ but instead all she has seen is mild amusement, charm and a self-loathing that she finds quite frankly disturbing.

The bathroom door opens and Harry appears. He’s clean, there’s no sign of the blood that soaked him earlier. The two vampires stare at each other for a moment or two before Harry slowly, almost tiredly approaches the bed and lowers himself onto the bottom of it. Emma watches as he reaches for his socks and his shoes and he laboriously pulls them on. The silence stretches awkwardly between them. As he stands up again, Harry pauses as she hands him his jacket and she ignores the fact that his hands are shaking as he accepts it and shrugs it on. She turns and heads into the sitting room again.

Harry’s spine is straighter when he appears a little while later. His mask seems to be back in place again.

They walk back downstairs. Vi is waiting for them and Emma can see the disapproval in her eyes. She watches them silently but Emma sees the contempt on her face and it rankles sharply with her.  The clean-up squad have completed their business and Vi has been ‘spoken to’. She will not be happy at all. A lull falls as the two vampires enter the room and Emma pauses and she takes them all in. So it’s going to be like that is it?

“Can I help any of you with something?” she enquires in a loud sharp voice. She sees how they look away, pretend interest in something or someone else. Harry stands beside her, stiff and watchful.

“Didn’t think so,” she retorts scornfully and she walks towards Vi.

“You gonna give me the cold shoulder now darlin’, after all I’ve done for you.” Her voice lowers icily and Vi straightens, outrage flashing in her eyes.

“She was one of my best girls and _he_ killed her!” she hisses back, her head nodding towards Harry.

“Careful who you’re talking about there sweetheart, he could rip you apart and not think twice about it or care. You’re no fucking innocent, your _best_ girl will be replaced by someone else before the sun comes up so don’t go playing the victim with me.”

“It’s unacceptable, he’s an animal!” she snarls back at her. She gives an alarmed squeak as Emma suddenly grabs her around her throat and pushes her up against the wall.  Her eyes blaze black and her fangs erupt. Freddie starts forward but Harry turns and steps in his way. He holds a hand up and just shakes his head. Freddie stays obediently still.

“ _He’s_ an animal? What does that make you sweetheart? Because you’ve made a very pretty penny off the backs of us _animals_. Be careful love, be very _very_ careful. One word from me to Mr Harper and it will be all over for you in more ways than one. You also better hope to _God_ Mr Snow doesn’t hear of this blatant disrespect either.” Her hand tightens briefly around her throat.

“You remember who you’re talking to in future! Don’t push me too far or I’ll forget that I once considered you a friend,” she snarls at her and then lets go. Her eyes are their usual cool blue by the time she turns around. She sends a warning glare at Freddie before she looks at Harry.

“Time we left Harry,” she tells him in a deceptively mild tone and the two vampires leave.

“Now I know why Joseph has you as his second in command. You are fearless,” Harry comments as they exit the building. Emma glances at him.

“It’s the only way to get any respect from this lot. I thought you’d done your homework on me Harry?” Her voice softens very slightly.

“I have.”

“And?”

“You’re tough and you don’t suffer fools gladly. Now I see why. You have more balls than a lot of your male counterparts.” She pauses and looks at him.

“You’re right, I don’t suffer fools. It may not seem… _ladylike_ in some circles but this is who I am. I don’t care whether you like it or not.” The determined gleam of earlier returns to her eyes.

“I didn’t say that I didn’t like it Emma,” he comments mildly. They both hear the low purr of a motor engine and turn at the same time.

A car pulls up across the street from them both. They watch as a window is wound down and Emma hears Harry sigh as a grey suited chauffeur comes into view.

“Mr Yorke, Miss Jennings,” he greets. Emma looks at Harry who just looks resigned.

“Who’s that?” Harry glances at her as he begins to walk towards the idling vehicle.

“My car and Dixon, my chauffeur. He ferries me around when I’m in London.” He pauses as Dixon gets out of the driver’s seat and opens the rear passenger door.

“And you didn’t think to tell me about this earlier instead of letting me trudge through bombed out London in these heels?” Emma enquires as Harry stands to one side to let her in. He quickly follows and the door is slammed shut as he takes his seat.

“I deliberately didn’t use him tonight, but vampire jungle drums being what they are...” He frowns slightly as the car pulls away from the kerb.

* * *

 

They’re in a very posh part of London Emma realises as the car glides to an effortless halt. Harry doesn’t wait for the chauffeur to open his door as he exits and waits for her to follow. He watches as she looks up at the three storey house in front of him and she looks back at Harry.

“This is your place?” Harry shrugs and walks away from her, up the path, up the small flight of stairs and inside. Emma follows, temporarily struck dumb.

“It’s not mine per se but it’s mine when I’m in the city. Technically it belongs to Mr Snow,” he informs her as they cross the threshold. Emma sees a uniformed maid approach. She waits for a moment and then takes Harry’s overcoat and hat from him, doing the same with Emma’s.

Emma follows Harry into a spacious sitting room. Her eyes take in the furnishings. It’s all very spare but expensive, minimalist she believes is the correct term. It’s furnished with antiques and there are works of real art on the silk covered walls.

“You live here all by yourself?”

“With servants, when I’m in town.”

“Must get lonely sometimes,” Emma comments and watches as Harry shrugs almost nonchalantly.

“You need to get yourself a lady friend Harry, someone you can indulge and spoil, that’s what Joseph does.”

“I noticed,” Harry responds dryly. It makes Emma grin.

“Drink?” Harry then enquires and Emma nods.

“Go on then, twist my arm,” she replies and watches him approach a drinks cabinet and open it. He pours whisky into two tumblers and approaches her and hands one to her. She accepts it and looks down at the pale amber liquid. She lifts the glass and gently inhales and then smiles at Harry who is observing her quietly.

“Quid pro quo I believe. Cheers.” He lifts the glass slightly and takes a sip of his own drink.

Emma watches him as she copies. Harry is still pale and he still has those shadows underneath his eyes but he seems to have regained a little of his previously scattered equilibrium. She watches him sit down on the sofa beside her.

“I wanted to apologise…about earlier…” Harry begins, his voice halting. He looks down into his glass and he frowns.

“It was all taken care of, it was just a hiccup,” Emma responds and Harry glances at her and shakes his head slightly.

“I don’t _have_ hiccups Emma. I’m always in control, _always_. I’m not sure what happened back there; I usually have more…decorum than that.” He keeps his voice low. He then sighs.

“If I’m to be completely honest, I really don’t want to be in London, no disrespect to you or to Joseph but I just don’t have the stomach for it right now,” he acknowledges with another frown. Emma regards him with open curiosity.

“Then why are you here?” she asks. Harry looks at her.

“Mr Snow wants me based here permanently. He wants me to oversee his interests, make sure that he’s represented correctly. He hasn’t been back to these shores in over a hundred and fifty years but he knows exactly what is going on. He’s chosen me to oversee the dog fights, the brothels, the money, and the nests. He wants to make his presence felt, through me. I am to show no mercy. For some reason he seems to trust me above everyone else.”

“You don’t sound all that keen.”

Harry shrugs. “I’m more than qualified for the task and I know that I could do the job and ably but I have…moments where I question it all. I have times when I wish that I could just…disappear.”  Emma regards him with new understanding. Now she begins to get it, Harry feels trapped by his circumstances, by his obvious privilege, like a bird in a gilded cage. She sighs noisily and it succeeds in breaking the tense atmosphere.

“God we all have moments like those Harry. I know that I do. The Blitz knocked out a few nests, we lost quite a few soldiers and it created chaos for a while especially for yours truly, running around like a blue arsed fly trying to keep order and then we had the refugees coming in and I had a hell of a time reminding them of who was boss and such like and I ended up kicking a few arses in the process. I’d’ve quite happily took off for quieter shores then but I didn’t. I just took a deep breath and pulled myself together and got on with it.”

Harry regards her curiously. 

“Keeping control of other vampires isn’t your job Emma, it’s Joseph’s. You shouldn’t be doing that kind of thing,” he tells her and Emma tilts her head to one side as she looks at him.

“Why not? Oh is it because I’m female and it’s not _becoming_? Yeah, well he’s not the most conscientious of bosses sometimes but I don’t mind, it keeps me busy and him sweet.”

“I’ve noticed that you do like to be the one in control,” Harry comments and Emma’s expression sharpens somewhat.

“Don’t you?” Harry inclines his head.

“Of course, but under my own terms,” he replies.

Emma nods. “For all that Joseph is my sire, we have an understanding and we get along alright most of the time. What about your sire?”

“What about him? He’s dead; I ended him two hundred and fifty years ago. He bored me,” Harry replies and Emma’s eyes widened in shock.

“You did _what_? Bloody hell Harry that took some brass ones didn’t it?” Harry’s answering shrug is elegant but unaffected.

“I suppose that it did. I outgrew him and then Mr Snow discovered me, made me his protégé, end of story really.”

“You don’t miss him?” Harry shakes his head.  He takes another sip of his drink and grimaces as it burns a path down to his stomach.

“If I’d stayed with him I wouldn’t be where I am now.” His expression turns thoughtful.

“No Mr Snow, no position of trust in London…” Emma reminds him dryly. Harry stares at her.

“Don’t worry; I don’t intend to interfere with your affairs or with Joseph’s affairs unless I’m specifically told to by Mr Snow. You won’t even know that I’m here.” He drains his glass and stands up. Emma watches as he walks back to the drinks cabinet and puts his glass down. Somehow she doubts that. She watches as he turns and looks at her.

“It’s been a very long day for me so I think I shall take my leave. I’d appreciate it if you could keep our conversation…just between us.” His voice is cool. Emma just nods.

“Sure, just between friends, I get it.”

“Are we friends?” Harry enquires curiously. Emma finishes her drink and she gets to her feet.

“I think we are. You’re an odd soul but I think I like you,” she replies and the faintest of smiles crosses Harry’s face.

“Thank you and likewise. I’d be happy to have a room made up for you here if you’d like…” He watches as Emma shakes her head.

“I’d better get going myself,” she answers.

“Then let me get Dixon to take you home.” Emma smiles at him.

“I’d appreciate that Harry, thanks,” she tells him.

* * *

 

The car pulls up at the kerb and Harry stands at the door. The two vampires regard each other.

“It has been an honour to meet you Emma and thank you…for everything.” He holds out a hand and after a moment she takes it. She watches as this time he lifts her hand to his lips and presses a gentle kiss against the knuckles. She deliberately ignores her reaction to it. It feels like a little electric current sparkling along her nerves. He lets go of her hand. She frowns very slightly.

“Likewise Harry. Listen…a word of advice. Don’t let anyone see what I saw tonight. I won’t tell anyone I promise you but there are others out there, much worse than me that will not think twice about using it to their advantage.” She pauses. “There are ways of getting out of this life you know, if you know what to do. There are ways of walking away from it and making folk think you won’t be ever coming back.” She watches him as he seems to digest her words.

“Thank you for an…interesting evening Emma,” he begins and his eyes sharpen on her face as she opens her mouth. She pauses briefly before taking a breath.

“I know you’re only in the Smoke for a couple of days Harry but next time you’re in town how about you look me up and we’ll go out for dinner, somewhere private and quiet?” she suggests. She waits and she fully expects him to refuse her invitation, especially given what has happened this evening. Harry seems to ponder it. Then he nods.

“Thank you, I think that would be nice.” She flashes a smile at his acceptance.

“Excellent, I’ll leave my address with Dixon,” she tells him.

Harry watches as she walks down the stone steps and into the car. He’s still standing there watching as the car purrs out of sight.

* * *

 

 The next morning, Emma returns to the club. Everything is much different, quieter, cleaner and more human. She heads towards Joseph’s private living quarters and lets herself in.

She smells the alcohol, the perfume as well as the sex. As her eyes take in the untidiness she realises that someone had a very good night last night. She’s still thinking about the evening she spent with Harry and still unable to form an absolute definitive opinion about him. She was telling the truth when she claimed that she liked him, sort of. She does but she thinks it may go deeper than that, she can’t quite put her finger on why.

As it is she takes in her surroundings and sighs quietly and wonders whether she should just come back later.

“Ahh…Em!”  She turns around when he hears Joseph’s jovial tone. Her sire emerges from his bedroom clad in just a navy blue dressing gown. He does look like he’s had a _very_ good time last night.

“Joseph,” she greets neutrally. He smiles.

“Sorry about the mess…” It’s a half-hearted apology and doesn’t mean a thing and Emma knows it. She shrugs as she follows him into the kitchen.

“I didn’t expect to see you til this afternoon at the earliest. A good night was it?” Joseph enquires as he pours some coffee. Emma looks at it and again wonders why there’d be coffee on the go when the sitting room looks like a bomb has dropped on it. Joseph pours another cup and pushes one towards Emma who accepts it and nurses it rather than drink it. His coffee is so strong that it could almost raise the dead.

“Yeah…it was interesting,” Emma answers and Joseph looks at her.

“Just interesting?” he enquires, his tone sharpening. Her eyes narrow and she glares at him.

“Yes, just interesting. What’s wrong with that?” she retorts crossly.

“And did you find out why he’s in the Smoke exactly?”

“Just to keep an eye on Mr Snow’s interests, see the lay of the land. I’m sure you knew that already. I know you sent me on a fishing expedition and he didn’t reveal anything new.”

 Joseph sighs. “Maybe, maybe not. Will he get in my way though?”

“It depends on what you’re planning to do. He says not but if he has Snow’s ear then you’d better watch yourself.”

“He’s just a kid!”

“Don’t underestimate him Joseph, Snow chose him for a reason.” They both turn their heads when they hear the front door quietly close.

“Did you like him though?” Joseph enquires and Emma pauses as the events of the previous evening play through her mind. It had been an eventful and very interesting night. Eventually she nods.

“Yeah, I did.” she confirms. Joseph’s answering smile is sly and cold.

“How much did you like him though, enough to keep him distracted whenever necessary?”

“Not funny Joseph,” she warns him with a scowl but she remembers that gentle kiss on the back of her hand all the same.

* * *

 

It’s early evening when she returns to her flat. She’s exhausted. She wants a bath and then hopefully a solid eight hours of sleep. She wonders which one she’ll go without.

“Margaret? I’m back!” she calls as she closes the front door behind her. She smiles when she sees her maid emerge from the living room but the smile disappears when she sees the dark expression in her eyes. She slowly frowns.

“Margaret?”

“You have a guest Miss Jennings.” Her voice is quiet and tense.

“Do I indeed, and who is my guest Margaret?” she enquires coolly. She stops in her tracks when Harry emerges from the living room behind Margaret.

“Good evening Emma. It seems as though Joseph works you hard,” he comments. Emma frowns at him.

“Harry. I thought you were leaving London tonight?” She tenses and watches him carefully as he slowly approaches her.

“I’ve arranged to stay an extra night.”

“Good for you. So what do you want?” He stops in front of her and she lifts her chin slightly as she looks into his eyes. They’re hazel brown, with a green ring around the iris.

“Now if I told you you’d probably slap my face.” He takes an experimental step towards her. She takes a similar step back and feels her back bump up against the wall.

“Careful Harry, I might just slap it anyway,” she warns. He pauses and then he slowly smiles. He leans forward very slightly.

“I haven’t been able to get you out of my head all day,” he whispers. Emma narrows her eyes.

“I’m warning you…”

“Oh Emma…” He takes another step towards her until he’s right there in her space. She can smell him; soap, toothpaste, a touch of spice in his cologne and a drift of cigarette smoke. Her hands come out and slap against his chest and he stills. This is not the same bloke as last night. This isn’t the controlled man, the close to suicidal man, this is a different man altogether. This must be the Lord Harry of reputation. Instinctively she knows that she must be very careful.

She pushes him away and he staggers back a couple of steps.

“Have you come to collect on our dinner date is that it?” She tilts her head to one side. Harry slowly smiles and shrugs. She wags a finger at him.

“And here’s me thinking you were different from all the others Harry. I thought you had respect for me, what I did.” Anger tightens her voice slightly.

“If I didn’t respect you Emma, I wouldn’t be taking no for an answer.” She inhales sharply and deeply at his admission. She turns her head and sees Margaret still hovering in the doorway.

“It’s fine Margaret, you can go for the evening, I’ll let you know if I need you,” she tells her and she sees the wary distrustful look she sends Harry’s way. She makes herself smile. “Really, everything is alright here. I’ll see you in the morning,” she continues and she watches as she disappears from view. Once she does she looks back at Harry.

“Who is that?” he enquires softly.

“She’s my maid; she’s been with me since she was a teenager. She looks after my hair and my make-up and makes sure I don’t leave here looking like a complete disaster.” She watches him take another step towards her once more and he stops when she raises a hand.

“Seriously Harry…”

“You aren’t interested?” He slides into her personal space once more and this time she lets him.

“In what?” she demands and he sighs.

“You’re determined to be obtuse aren’t you? _Us_ …I told you things last night that I have never told another soul.”

“Oh and you think that entitles you to a quick tumble does it?” she retaliates archly. Instead of looking offended, Harry just smiles.

“I’m not looking for a relationship Emma and I don’t think that you are either. What’s the harm in it? Don’t you believe in fun? Aren’t you allowed to have any or must you be Joseph’s puppet, ready to do his bidding at a moment’s notice?” he goads. Emma frowns at him.

“He doesn’t control me, nobody does,” she answers coldly and watches Harry tilt his head slowly, imperceptibly to one side.

“Really?” he enquires softly. He takes another step towards her until she can feel his body brush up against hers. “Or is it all an act?” he whispers.

“I could ask you the very same question Harry, is this the vampire of reputation that I was told about because I certainly didn’t see him last night,” she retaliates. For a moment absolute silence drops between them as they stare at each other. A strange kind of awareness arcs between them, it makes her entire body tingle. A tight smile crosses Harry’s face.

“You are utterly fearless,” he tells her.

 “I don’t care what you think of me Harry. You have no control over me. No man does. I’m my own person.”

“Does Joseph know that?”

“ _Especially_ Joseph,” she retorts. She stiffens as Harry reaches for her, his fingers tracing softly against the skin at the curve of her jaw. She pulls her head back, he grabs her chin and pulls her head around and her eyes flash black and she hisses at him, fangs on display. She watches as his own eyes blacken in response and she sees his fangs appear. He lowers his head and kisses her and she feels those fangs nip her lower lip. She jerks her head back and snarls at him. She pushes him and he rocks back on his heels.

“I won’t be your plaything Harry,” she hisses at him, insulted. His eyes flash hazel brown again and his fangs retract.

“Jesus Emma,” he whispers and she sees the first signs of frustration. She straightens. She moves towards him. Her expression is fierce and determined.

_What the hell, why not? He’s interested, he’s doesn’t want commitment. He wants to have a good time and so does she. They both have something to prove._

“It’s got to be on my terms Harry. I like to be the one in control. I have to be.”

This time she reaches for him.

* * *

 

 He watches her get out of bed and walk naked across her room and unhook the robe from the back of the door. She slips it on and knots it and turns to look at him. He’s half leaning up against the headboard and he looks dishevelled, unashamed, well used if she’s to be blunt.

“You look pleased with yourself,” she accuses him and he shrugs lazily. She slowly approaches the bed again.

“Don’t get too comfortable with the situation. I’m not looking for anything, I’m better by myself.”

“Don’t worry, I made myself perfectly clear earlier. I like you. You’re straightforward and honest. You don’t lie, to me, to those around you and to yourself. It’s refreshing.” He sits up straight as she lowers herself down on the side of the double bed and she turns her head and regards him.

“You need to get out of here. If Joseph finds out…”

“What would he do?” Harry enquires curiously. Emma sighs and slowly shakes her head.

“He’d try to blackmail you; he’d try to use it to his advantage.”

“If he tries either of those then he’ll get a shock.”

“He’s as old as Mr Snow, he knows his way around everyone and everything. You don’t want to cross him.” Harry leans closer to her.

“That is as maybe but he doesn’t know _me_.” He sees how she frowns. “He may be your sire but he doesn’t own you,” he reminds him and her expression becomes haunted.

“Doesn’t he? He’s responsible for all of this, for my existence…” She shrugs. Harry shakes his head.

“All of _this_ is because of you; don’t let him tell you otherwise.” She stares at him and then she sighs.

“Perhaps. Harry you need to leave now, I mean it.” She goes to stand up but he grabs hold of her wrist and she looks back at him.

“Next time I’m in London I’m going to get in touch with you. Will that be acceptable?” She looks down at his hand clamped around her wrist. Damn it to hell and back. He’s a pain in the arse and persistent with it. She’s tempted to tell him that no, it isn’t acceptable but Christ he’s a good roll in the sack. She looks back into his eyes.

She nods.

 

 


	4. Chapter Four.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story jumps forward in time, specifically to 1955.

**Chapter Four:**

  ** _Summer 1955._**

“Are you busy?” Emma frowns at the tension that she hears in Joseph’s voice.

“Well I am supposed to be working…”

“Delegate,” he snaps back and Emma’s curiosity grows.

“That’s rich coming from you considering it’s your job that I’m bloody doing. What’s the matter?”

“You haven’t heard?” Emma sighs and sits back in her seat. He’s in one of those moods she would seem.

She closes her eyes and wills patience. “Heard what?”

About Lord Harry. You need to get your arse over here pronto, I don’t care what excuses you use, just get here.” Emma’s stomach drops at the mention of his name. What has Joseph heard and more to the point why does he need to see her?

Oh God, does he know? The first stirrings of unease trembles in the pit of her stomach. It feels alien and she doesn’t like it. She takes a breath and squashes it brutally down.

“Okay, calm down, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“You’d better be. This isn’t good Emma; it’s not good at all.” He slams down his phone. Emma’s brain goes into overdrive as she slowly replaces her telephone receiver and wonders what it is Harry has done to get her sire all up in arms all of a sudden. Her thoughts scatter in ten different directions.

She’d only seen Harry a couple of nights ago. They’d shared a bit of supper and talked, spent a couple of pleasurable hours between the sheets before she’d left. She’s always so careful. No one knows about their liaisons, she leaves no evidence lying around at her flat or her office. The day after he’d left her flat that first time, a huge delivery of fat white roses and lilies arrived. All the card had said was ‘thank you’ with no initial, no name but she knew he sent them. No one has ever sent her flowers before and she does admit to feeling a somewhat feminine thrill slide through her at the sight of them, their beauty and their scent. Where the hell had he got lilies and roses from in the middle of wartime? She couldn’t begin to imagine. Once in a while a display of roses and lilies are delivered to her flat and there is never a note or a message or a hint of who sent them but she knows that they’re from him.

Joseph has connections, possibly some that even she knows nothing about. He doesn’t like being lied to and if he’s discovered the truth about her and Harry then there will be hell to pay.

Emma frowns as she picks up her shoulder bag and her jacket. There’s nothing to tell, it isn’t some big love match. It’s just sex and a bit of companionship but it’s hers, just hers and Harry’s. She doesn’t doubt for a single second that Harry is faithful. If he sees an opportunity then he’ll take it and it doesn’t really bother her. She sees him as a distraction, a welcome one but a distraction all the same.

* * *

 

During the intervening years she’s graduated to being Joseph’s chief enforcer. She has her own office across town from him but he’s always in touch by telephone. She keeps order, sorts out problems, kicks arses if necessary. She’s feared and respected, faces go pale when she arrives on the doorstep and she won’t be surprised if Harry has had a say in this promotion, has said something to Mr Snow. She has a little bit more responsibility within the organisation and she’s enjoying the opportunities that it brings. She likes having her finger on the pulse of London, clearing up messes that other vampires on Joseph’s patch make, making sure they don’t reach the public conscience. All for a fee of course, the morons who leave their messes for her to put right quite happily pay up for the convenience of her protection. She shrugs on her jacket and she pats her pockets, making sure she hasn’t left anything behind.

As she emerges from her office she tells her secretary that something has come up, she may be out of contact for a little while.

* * *

 

She negotiates busy traffic and smokes a cigarette as she does so. London is bustling, thriving in the middle of a post war boom. One could say that it was flourishing on this side of humanity as well as on the other. She has her work cut out for her and she works long hours legitimately and otherwise. She doesn’t mind, she has a nice pad in a decent part of town, her neighbours never bother her, she has money, she has companionship as and when she needs it and overall it’s good. She has no real complaints. She’s also beginning to think about real ambitions. It’s a little bit too early at the moment to say exactly what they are but she harbours them secretly all the same.

Harry did move in and take over Mr Snow’s London affairs and he ended up being extremely good at his job. Emma has never told Joseph of their relationship such as it is, whatever he might think, it’s none of his business who she sleeps with.

 _That_ evening has never been brought up in conversation again; it’s as though it never happened. The vulnerability that she was a witness to has never resurfaced either. Sometimes Emma wonders whether she imagined it all.

Harry said that Snow wanted him to show no mercy and that is exactly what he has done. He has shown none. Blood has been shed, order has been restored and kept tightly grasped within a fist of iron. Even Joseph has upped his game slightly. Harry may have been a ‘kid’ in his eyes but it has been proved that Snow was right in his assessment of his enfant terrible.

No one dares to cross Lord Henry Yorke.

* * *

 

She parks her car in its usual place and heads up to Joseph’s pent house flat. She gains instant access and sees her sire in the sitting room, pacing. Frances is seated nearby looking fashion magazine perfect and bored. Emma briefly glances at her as she enters the room but that’s all. There is no welcome on Frances’s face. They still do not like each other.

“Okay, I’m here. What’s going on, what has Lord Harry done?” she enquires. So help her, she will swing for him if it’s something of no consequence. Joseph stops pacing and he swings around to look at her.

“He’s dead,” he announces and Emma blinks. Her body goes rigid.

“Beg your pardon?”

“He’s _dead_ , proper dead, _gone_ ,” Joseph retorts impatiently and Emma feels icy cold shock fill her. Harry is dead?  She shakes her head slightly. 

“ _How_?”

“A fucking dog escaped, how I don’t know but when I do find out heads will roll, oh they will fucking _roll_ alright, Snow is beside himself with rage.” Emma imagines that he will be and then some.

“A lyco got out? On Lord Harry’s watch? That’s unheard of. He checks everything himself,” she murmurs.

“He was checking them when this one got loose.” He walks to a table and Emma watches as he picks up a photograph and brings it to her, shoving it in her hands.

She stares down at the black and white picture. She sees the blood, the dust and the blood-stained broken bit of wood that lies amidst the clothing on the dirty cement floor. She frowns. She remembers watching him dress in that very same tuxedo and she remembers him asking her whether she wanted to come along to the dog fight that night. She had refused; she’d had work to do.

_“You work too hard Emma.”_

_“I need to keep a step ahead of the pace Harry, you know that.”_

_“You can say Joseph sent you, a see and be seen kind of situation.”_

_“Except that he didn’t and word will get back to him and he’s not stupid Harry, he’ll guess.”_

She looks up at Joseph.  She wonders where the piece of wood came from.

She needs to see this place for herself. Something niggles at her.

* * *

 

She escapes from the uproar by telling Joseph that she has work to do and that she’ll look further into details about what happened to Harry. She maintains a cold rigid control as she leaves the flat and takes the stairs down and outside. It’s raining and she looks up at the heavy grey sky. She sighs shakily and heads for her car.

She climbs into the driver’s seat and for a moment just sits there, staring into space, her hands on the steering wheel. She grips it tightly to stop them from shaking. She hears the rapid fire rattle of raindrops hitting the roof of her car, watches them slide down the windows.

Harry is dead?  As in properly absolutely permanently _dead_? It sounds unbelievable. He doesn’t _get_ careless. Her mind struggles to understand. She blinks and her vision blurs. She swears quietly and reaches for her handbag and she pulls out a handkerchief and quickly dabs at her eyes. She then takes a deep breath and straightens in her seat, deliberately squaring her shoulders, willing herself to calm down. In a more resolute state mind, she starts the car.

* * *

 

It looks like any other old abandoned building on the docks, hidden away from attention and under any other circumstances, tightly secured. Emma parks her car and gets out and for a moment she just looks at it. There isn’t a soul to be seen. All she can hear is the low blast of a solitary foghorn and smell the stink of the river.

During the short drive over here all she has thought about is the fact that he can’t possibly be properly, irreparably and permanently dead. He just can’t be. It rolls around endlessly inside of her head. He can’t be gone; he can’t have just left her.

She gets inside and finds it deserted. The dogs will have been moved onto a different location and the clean-up squad will have been hard at work covering their tracks. There is nothing incriminating here. She goes down a flight of stairs into the cellars. In here the temperature drops dramatically. It’s cold, damp dank and miserable. The rooms such as they are, are enclosed cell like alcoves, there aren’t any bars and maybe that’s where they went wrong. There are rings bolted into thick white-washed stone walls, thin filthy blankets which have been left discarded.  There are no chains or restraints on view, nothing except to suggest that perhaps a tramp bedded down here for a night on occasion. She pauses in the cell she knows belonged to the lyco who’d escaped and killed Harry. There is what’s left of a narrow wooden crate beside one wall, a broken wine bottle next to it. Emma folds her arms and she frowns. Harry would never be so careless as to let a lyco get the better of him. She turns and walks out. As she exits, something catches her eye and she pauses and turns more fully.

It’s a narrow passageway, barely noticeable in the dark inky shadows and she curiously approaches it. Her eyes widen when she sees the narrow staircase. It’s barely wide enough to allow a man easy access and she slowly, carefully climbs it. At the top of the staircase she sees the outline of a door; she can see daylight seeping through its cracks. When she gets to it she twists the knob and her eyes widen marginally as it opens. She steps out and squints in the light and presently she realises that she’s right beside the river; the stench of it is stronger than ever from here. She stands on the dock and she looks up and down. She slowly smiles to herself, even laughs as she understands.  She refuses to allow any other emotion to dominate. She blinks back any traitorous tears.

“You wily old sod Harry, you did it. You _actually_ did it.”


	5. Chapter Five:

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flash forward again to 1970 and Emma runs into someone she didn't think she'd see again.

**Chapter Five:**

**_Summer, 1970._ **

It does her good to get away from things.

Emma smiles to herself and lifts her face up to the warm sunshine and gently inhales a lungful of salty air. Sunglasses protect her eyes from the worst of the glare and the heat but she feels it scratching at her skin anyway. Why hasn’t she thought of doing this before now? Now she gets the attraction, why people like to migrate to the beach. The air is fresher here; it doesn’t feel like it’s choking her lungs with smoke, pollution and worse. She stands on the esplanade and looks down at the beach below her, at the holidaymakers dotted along the sand. They’re here to enjoy what Southend has to offer. Her hands grip the railings in front of her, slightly rusted from the corrosively salty air. She turns her head and looks at the young man beside her, Jamie, the newest, rawest recruit and she observes him doing the same. The sea breeze pulls her hair away from her face. He glances at her and he hesitantly smiles. He’s still a bit nervous, a bit on edge. It’s been three months since his recruitment and they’re here tying up loose ends before he moves on to his newer, richer life. He’s a handsome thing, collar length blond hair, big blue eyes. He’s one of Joseph’s last recruits. Ah _Joseph._

_The moment she sees the smug tight smile on Frances’s face is when she realises that the jig is up._

_She should’ve realised something was wrong when she was made to wait in the front office, that there was hardly a soul around. Trouble was brewing and she didn’t realise until she saw the expression on Frances’s over-made up face that the person in trouble was her._

_She’s pissed off by the time Susie tells her that Joseph will see her now. She’s furious that she’s had to wait. She’s never had to wait to see him; he’s always made time for her._

_Two things happen. One, she sees Joseph standing by the large window that offers spectacular views of the streets below and secondly the thick heavy wooden stake that rests on his desk in front of her. She looks at him and then the stake. Sensations prickle up and down her spine and alarm bells begin to ring in her head._

_Her mouth goes dry and her chin goes up as Joseph turns around, his arms behind his back. There is no emotion in his eyes._

_Those alarm bells get louder._

" _Is there a reason why you decided to keep me waiting outside?” she enquires. Inside she’s fuming at the snub but she has a feeling Joseph wants her off kilter and angry and she won’t give him what he wants._

_He doesn’t answer her immediately. Emma glances over her shoulder at Frances who is flipping through another magazine but that smug little smile is still on her bitch of a mouth. Emma returns her attention to Joseph who just stares at her. She lifts her chin._

_“Okay…out with it. Who’s upset you now?” she goads. She doesn’t like this stillness. She’s used to the bluster, the blast of rage and the threats but not this. He’s too quiet. It gets the reaction as she knew that it would. His eyes narrow and he storms around the desk and as he does, he grabs the stake off the surface and holds it. It makes Emma flinch and take a step back. She yelps as he grabs the front of her blouse and yanks her towards him, his face dark with rage._

_“When were you gonna tell me you fucking traitorous bitch?” he snarls._

* * *

 

“You okay?” she asks and Jamie nods.

“It’s nice here isn’t it?” she adds and once more he nods.

“Come on; let’s walk for a bit before grabbing a bite to eat.”

She sees how he looks at her and she grins. “Fish and chips love, I’ve heard they’re pretty good in these parts,” she teases and hears him laugh in response. New recruits, she’s forgotten that a lot of them are afraid of their own shadow in the earliest days.

The promenade is busy, lots of folk taking advantage of the sunshine and the fact that it’s a Sunday. People mill around them eating ice cream and candy floss, their very human skin boiled bright pink from the heat. She sees courting couples walking hand in hand, families with pushchairs and toddlers in walking reins scattered about. It’s all the height of domesticity.

A hell of a lot has happened over the last three months.

* * *

 

_Emma’s eyes go wide for a moment, wider when he shakes her so hard that she’s sure she can feel her eyeballs rattle in her skull._

_“What are you talking about?” she demands, her voice rising with genuine fear._

_“Henry fucking Yorke that’s who I’m talking about,” he hisses back and he lets go of her and the suddenness of it makes her stagger back a step or two._

_“He’s dead Joseph, unless you’ve found something else out?” She ignores the surge of hope in her breast. Has someone found him? Has he grown bored of whatever life he’s been leading and he’s resurfaced somewhere ready to take over?_

_“Oh you’d love that wouldn’t you? Then your treachery would be complete,” Joseph retaliates. Emma frowns._

_“What are you talking about? You’re not making any sense.”_

_“I know sweetheart, about your relationship with him. Tell me, was he worth it?” He smiles coldly as her mouth drops open with shock._

_“How…what…” For the first time in decades, words fail her. She watches as he glances at Frances. Emma looks at her once more. She’s smiling._

_“You saw us?” There’s no use in denying it any longer._

_“Not me, Alfie did. He saw you coming out of Harry’s residence the night he died. He saw you embrace. He thought I knew about it, that everyone knew about it,” she replies. Emma stares at her dumbfounded before she returns her attention to Joseph. Alfie, fucking snivelling useless Alfie. It figured, anything to get on the good side of his boss._

_“So we had a relationship if you could call it that. So what? He’s dead now, he’s gone!” she exclaims._

_“You didn’t tell me Em and you should have, unless you were plotting behind my back, spying for Snow maybe?”_

_“And why would I want to do that hmmm?” Emma retorts, folding her arms._

_“You were fucking Henry Yorke Emma. Or here’s something, maybe he was doing you and reporting back to the old bastard, how about that?” he retorts.  He sees how her eyes widen and her mouth drops open in outrage and he chuckles._

_“Smart Miss Jennings didn’t think of that one now did she? Yorke was a cold hearted fucker by all accounts. Why would he be interested in the likes of you unless it was to get information?” he taunts._

_“That wasn’t what happened, it wasn’t like that.”_

_“How much did you tell him? And don’t you dare lie to me because I hate being fucking lied to!” He’s back in her space again, the anger burning anew. He grabs her and this time she tries to push him away. She gasps when she feels the tip of the stake pointed at her breast._

_“What was Snow offering you to spy on me? London perhaps? Do you want my job darling?”_

_“I haven’t spoken to anyone Joseph so all of this is firmly inside of your head. If I wanted your job then I would’ve had it by now,” she throws back at him. His grip tightens, twisting the collar of her shirt up against her throat. He spins her and throws her up against his desk. Paperwork and other such stuff scatters and tumbles off its surface and onto the floor. Emma gasps as her lower back makes painful contact. Her eyes widen once more as Joseph looms over her._

_“You always were such a sanctimonious self-righteous little bitch. It was a mistake keeping you around but I suppose you had your uses, just not the kind of use I should’ve had for you. You were always mine; you belonged to me, not to him.” He grabs her hips and her eyes widen with fright._

_“Joseph…”_

_“Joseph what…please…. please what? I’ll ask you again, was he worth it, was he any good?” He taunts. Her breath rasps out of her in tight, panting gasps. She stretches out an arm, reaching, grabbing._

_“You forget yourself. Believe me when I say that I wasn’t plotting against you. Why would I? You gave me all of this, these opportunities, this life, why would I want to change any of that?” She has to think fast. He sneers at her and lifts the stake._

_“Maybe I should just take it all away from you then? Like you said, I gave it to you?” He brings the stake up and at the same time Emma surges to a more upright position._

_There is a brilliant flash of silver as the letter opener catches the daylight as she plunges it into the side of Joseph’s neck. Blood spurts from the wound and over her hand. She lets go and slides off the desk and crouches down as the stake clatters to the floor. She grabs it and gets to her feet. Her eyes are black by now as adrenaline pumps through her. Joseph staggers back, eyes wide with shock, his hand on the letter opener still in his neck. He yanks it out and more blood spills out of the wound._

_“You bitch,” he hisses at her as he stumbles. She walks towards him._

_“I may not have told you about him but that doesn’t mean that I betrayed you. Whatever poison Frances has fed you, that wasn’t what I was about and you should’ve known that. Yes I wanted your job but I wanted it my way, not like this but since you asked Joe, yes he was worth it and my God he was excellent!” she spits back and she rams the stake into his chest. She glories in the look of stunned shock in his eyes. Her answering smile is wide and free._

_It doesn’t take long for him to fade and decay. She’s still breathing heavily as she looks down at the crumpled heap of clothing that is left behind before she turns her attention to Frances. She holds her arm out with the blood stained stake pointed in her direction. Her eyes flash blue once more but her smile is cold, the fangs still on display._

_“Your turn.”_

* * *

 

She’s embracing her new position at the top of the vampire food chain. Now she’s the one in charge and nobody has dared to disagree with her. The transference of power has been surprisingly easy and relatively bloodless under the circumstances. It has also helped that she’s had Mr Snow’s backing. That came as a bit of a shock, knowing that she was on his radar. The day after it all happened she received a telephone call. A cool languid voice on the other end of a very crackly phone line. There had been no introduction, none was necessary; she knew exactly who it was.

_“Ah Miss Jennings. I hear that there’s been a change of leadership in London…”_

_“Yes Sir, it was rather unfortunate but I’m afraid it had to be done.” The silence on the other end of the line had been excruciating until finally he spoke again._

_“I quite agree. Carry on my dear; I hear you’ve been accomplishing great things in my absence. Carry on.”_

And that was that. End of story.

Even Mr Snow had noticed Joseph’s slowly loosening grip of control of London. He was only too happy to allow Emma to step into his shoes and she’s done so with pride.

She’s also taking care of young Jamie here, recruited by Joseph for whatever reasons Emma has still yet to figure out and left to fend for himself. It was further proof of Joseph’s unravelling faculties. Perhaps in recruiting him he was hoping to replace her. Well that backfired spectacularly didn’t it?

“Leo, I simply won’t do it…it’s utter madness….” Emma hears that voice and she stops dead in her tracks. Jamie pauses and looks at her in askance. She shakes her head slightly and turns, her eyes scanning the faces around her. That voice…she knows that voice anywhere. If she had a heartbeat then it would be going nineteen to the dozen right about now.

Then she sees him and everything goes still inside of her. He’s walking away from her but she recognises him all the same.

“Bloody hell…so there you are,” she whispers. She glances at Jamie and she shakes her head again, seeing the question in his eyes.

“Never mind,” she murmurs and she begins to follow him.

* * *

 

He isn’t alone; he’s walking with two other people, another man and a very pretty looking lady. She swallows down a spark of jealousy.  She has dark auburn coloured hair and she’s wearing a remarkably old fashioned dress, something that would’ve been the height of fashion maybe fifteen years ago. Nobody is paying her any attention though. She’s chatting to Harry animatedly whilst glancing several times at his other companion. It’s then that she gets a lungful of something, a strong scent that makes her hackles instinctively begin to rise.

“Oh my God what is that _smell_?” Jamie mutters to her and she glances at him.

“Werewolf sweetheart, that is the scent of werewolf. Never, ever forget it,” she informs him and watches how he wrinkles his nose in disgust. Emma grins at him before returning her attention to the back of Lord Harry.

She keeps a safe distance from them but she never loses sight of them. They leave the esplanade and end up on a relatively busy high street. A few shops are open though, taking advantage of the tourist season.

“Who are we following Emma?” Jamie enquires in a low voice.

“Someone I didn’t think I’d ever see again, a bit of a legend actually,” she quietly confides.

She observes them as they pause outside of a shop. Emma doesn’t get an opportunity to see where as Harry turns his head to look up and down the street, causing her to duck quickly into an empty shop doorway. When she emerges, they’re gone.

She walks slowly along the street, peering into shop windows. Most of them are closed, locked up tight and in darkness. In one she sees movement. She glances at the sign on the window. It goes by the name of ‘Leo’s’ and she sees that it is a barber shop. She smiles to herself and she slowly removes her sunglasses. She taps on the door and watches the werewolf turn and look at her. He frowns.

“We’re closed,” he mouths at her. Emma moves closer to the door and then points and watches as the dog frowns once more and then slowly turns to look at Harry.

* * *

 

Harry goes white when he recognises her.

“You can either let me in or I’ll get my friend here to break the door down, either way I’m coming in,” she tells them. She waits and watches as the trio exchange looks. She can’t quite hear what they’re saying but it sounds suspiciously like they’re planning to make a break for it.

“I really wouldn’t do that if I were you, you wouldn’t want me telling folk where you’re hiding now would you Harry? You know how quick they are, they’d get to you before you got out of town. You’ve got thirty seconds or I’m going to start drawing attention to myself and to you,” she calls. She waits and watches.

The werewolf approaches the door and unlocks it and opens it. He glares at Emma.

“What do you want?” he demands. Emma looks at him. He looks to be in his early forties, his wiry dark hair is starting to go grey at the temples. Hostility emanates from him in waves.

“Not you for a start, back in your basket with you, there’s a good lad,” she retorts and she sees how his eyes narrow.

“It’s alright Leo, let her in.” Emma watches as Harry appears beside him. There is no expression of welcome on his face, only resignation that he’s been found. She waits until Leo takes a step back before she enters the shop.

She takes in her surroundings, it’s like any other barber shop she’s ever come across, a wall of mirrors, the chairs, sinks… the works. Emma turns her head and she looks at Harry.

“Well well _well_ Harry, you went and did it, you actually went and did it. I must say, I’m impressed.” She regards him and then she frowns.

“But what in God’s name are you wearing?” She takes in the three piece suit that he wears in a tweedy shade of green, the waist coat buttoned all the way up as is the collarless shirt. She remembers the expensive suits from their time in London. This is like the other end of the spectrum and thirty years older. She sees how he looks down at his clothes but he doesn’t answer. He keeps his arms rigidly by his side except that in his right hand she sees a domino piece which he’s twirling over and over between his fingers.

“What do you want Emma?” he demands in a tight voice. Emma sighs and she looks at the werewolf and the girl. She’s a ghost she suddenly realises. How interesting.

“Could we have some privacy please?” she asks and sees how the werewolf, _Leo_ frowns.

“I’m not leaving you alone with her Hal. She’s a vampire!” he informs him and Emma’s eyes widen dramatically. Oh it’s _Hal_ now is it?  Curiouser and curiouser

“So I _am_ , so is he and hey, here’s a newsflash, so is he. Full marks for observation Rin Tin Tin,” Emma sneers as she points to Jamie and Harry and watches as Harry flashes her an irritated look which in turn makes her sigh and plaster an insincere smile on her face.

“Oh calm down, I’m not here to drag him back into temptation Leo, I just want to talk, that’s all,” she retorts. She waits as they exchange another look and finally Harry nods.

“I won’t be far away, just yell if you need me,” Leo tells him. He glares at Emma one more time before he and the ghost walk away out of sight. Emma watches them and then she returns her attention to Harry.

“Wow, that’s quite a team you have there, protective too.” She looks at Jamie who is standing somewhat awkwardly between them. She smiles at him.

“Why don’t you take a seat while Harry and I talk?” she suggests.

“Hal…” Harry corrects and Emma frowns at him.

“Excuse me?”

“My name is Hal. I prefer to be known as Hal. Harry was just a nickname,” Hal replies. Emma regards him.

“Oh, okay _Hal_ it is then. I’m still Emma though, that part hasn’t changed,” she taunts and Hal flicks a look at her. She smiles grimly.

“What do you want?” Hal asks once more. Emma tilts her head to one side and regards him.

“Fifteen years of silence _Hal_ and that’s all you can say to me? I’m _hurt._ Everyone in London thinks that you’re dead, like _proper_ dead. Mr Snow went on a rampage like you’ve never seen, it wasn’t pretty, heads _literally_ rolled and a few hearts were ripped out as well I seem to remember.”

“They were supposed to think that, it was how we… _I_ …arranged it.”

“The dog in there, he was the one who escaped?”

“He didn’t escape, I released him. We staked the vampire who came down to take him up to the cage and I took his clothes and we ran,” Hal retorts. His voice is clipped, uptight and Emma is reminded of that vampire on the roof almost thirty years before.

“Why?”

“Because it seemed like a good idea at the time. I wanted to escape and Leo offered me the perfect opportunity to do so.”

“It was the night of a full moon, how the hell did you get out and survive his transformation?”

“I knew of somewhere where he could transform in safety and after that we left. You didn’t answer my question earlier, what are you doing here, what do you want?” he snaps.

“Jesus Harr…Hal, I haven’t seen you in fifteen years…”

“How did you find me?”

“I didn’t go looking for you if that’s what you’re thinking. Everyone believes you’re proper dead, I’m not here to upset the apple cart.”

“I don’t want to go back,” he mutters. She regards him. This man is different, there is something _changed_ about him. The clothes are different, his demeanour isn’t the same. He’s more rigid and controlled. She watches the domino again. Where is her lover of back then? He’s certainly not here.

“What’s going on with you?” she asks. She sees how Hal’s eyes widen very slightly.

“In what way?”

“Now I remember sharing a bottle of good malt whisky with you and watching you charm the waitresses. I also remember the rooftop incident, I remember _us_ but this is something completely different. _You’re_ different. What’s going on?”

“Nothing is going on Emma. I implore you not to tell anyone where I am. I’m settled here, I have a …life that I’m content with. Please, I beg of you.” Emma’s eyes widen at Hal’s nervous pleadings.

“I’m not here to cause any trouble, I just want to talk. Will you listen?” she indicates the sofa nearby.

“Do I have a choice?” Hal mutters but he follows Emma to the sofa and sits down. He sits forward on the chair and doesn’t relax for an instant.

“I won’t tell anyone that you’re here Hal, you have my solemn promise on that,” Emma begins and she watches him turn his head and look at her.

“I really want to believe that,” he whispers.

“Then believe it. When I make a promise then I keep it. I haven’t told another soul about what happened in ’42 and I never will. Things have changed in the Smoke Harry…sorry, Hal.”

“Changed how?”

“Joseph is dead; I ended him three months ago. I’m in charge of things now and Mr Snow is happy with that. I think he realised that things were going to go to hell in a hand basket without your influence in vampire affairs, he had his measure and backed my take over.” She watches how he absorbs this news.

“If I were to tell people back in London that you’re alive then protocol would demand that you take over completely. You’d be the one to step into Joseph’s shoes. You’re Snow’s heir, his protégé, it’s only natural but I’ve worked hard for my position and with you out of the way then it became easier. I am where I’m supposed to be.”

“And I’d just complicate matters.” Emma nods.

“So if you want to hide down here then I’m not about to upset matters by telling folk that you’re here. If you want to stay here then have at it.” Hal regards her.

“But I want to know one thing…why… _why_ disappear like that, you were riding the crest of a wave, at the height of your power. I think if you’d bided your time then you’d have taken over Joseph’s territory as well.”

 _Why did you leave me?_ She wants to know that most of all.

“Would you have liked working for a vampire fifty years your junior?” Hal retorts cynically and Emma shrugs.

“Probably not but I respected you a hell of a lot more than I respected Joseph towards the end. He was beginning to get careless, erratic and dangerous.  Frances, his girl found out about our… _thing_ and he went berserk that I’d omitted that fact from him. He threatened to kill me, to take away everything that I’d worked for. It wasn’t pleasant but I was ready and I took my chance. Snow backed my decision. He’d been watching me. I am where I want to be, at the top of the pile.”  She watches as Hal leans forwards and stares at his hands, at the domino piece that he still holds in one hand. He then turns his head and looks at Emma once more. She stares into his eyes.

“Why couldn’t you have talked to me Hal…about what you had planned?” she hisses. A look of pain crosses his face and he glances away.

“I didn’t plan it at the time. The opportunity just… _presented_ itself and I took it. I couldn’t have talked to you because you were part of it all and you would have stopped me and I would have let you stop me. I had to get away from it all, every part of it and that meant you too.” His voice is low as he looks back at her.

“I knew that you’d survive. You survived before you met me and you’ve obviously gone on to greater things since I left.”  A breath hisses out of his lungs and he closes his eyes briefly. They open once more.

“I have…cycles of behaviour Emma and I’m never sure who is going to emerge when one ends and another begins. They last about fifty or so years and once in a while someone… _kinder_ emerges for a little while. I always know when a cycle is starting to come to an end, it can happen gradually or it can happen…suddenly.”

“And that was what was happening back in London…at the brothel?” Hal just nods.

“It took me a while to recognise it for what it was. Mary was very…accommodating, she did nothing wrong but I lost complete control and afterwards…well I didn’t like myself very much and I now realise that back then was the first time _this_ man was beginning to emerge. Leo recognised that and despite everything, agreed to help me. I couldn’t in good faith have continued in London as I am now and Mr Snow would’ve killed me rather than let me go.”

“No he wouldn’t, you were his golden boy, his poster boy really.”

“Yes he _would_ have. I wouldn’t have been loyal anymore and he doesn’t tolerate lack of loyalty,” Hal whispers back to her.

“So you’re happy here? Living like this...and what _is_ the deal with the domino?” She nods at it and Hal glances down at it. He twirls it between his fingers.

“It’s a control issue. My days are broken down into strict routines; I depend upon them to keep me safe, to keep the outside world safe from me. I depend upon Leo to help me,” he admits. Emma’s eyes widen.

“You don’t feed.” Hal shakes his head rapidly.

“I’ve been… dry since I left London. Fifteen years,” he confesses. Her mouth drops open in shock.

“Fucking hell Harry…Hal,” she breathes in astonishment. Hal shrugs.

“It’s who I am now. Do you understand why I had to leave?” Emma regards him.

“Yeah, I think I do.”

“And you mustn’t tell anyone else that I’m here.”

“Jesus Hal, I’ve already said that I won’t. I think I would’ve chosen someone other than a lyco to take care of me though, how do you stand it?”

“He’s good for me Kate. He’s wise, non-judgemental and strong.”

“Plus his blood is fucking toxic to the likes of us so that’s a bonus.”

“And there is that too,” Hal agrees. Emma looks around the shop. She sighs.

“I was right about you y’know. You’re an odd one but you’re okay.” She gets to her feet and she looks at Jamie.

“Come on; let’s get those fish and chips I promised you.” She watches as he stands up and goes to her side. Hal gets to his feet and the two older vampires look at each other.

“One final thing. The night you…left, you asked me to go to the dog fight with you. I said I couldn’t because I was working.” She pauses and regards him. “If I’d gone with you to the dog fight, would you have left?” Her mouth is dry as she waits for his response. He straightens and a mild frown wrinkles his brow. After a moment he nods.

“Yes. I would have,” he confesses on a whisper. It stings to hear it and Emma nods just the once. Her smile when it comes, doesn’t quite manage to reach her eyes.

“Take care of yourself Harry…Hal…whatever it is you’re calling yourself these days. Don’t forget, if you ever find yourself in trouble then come and find me.”

“With all due respect but I don’t think that would be a very good idea now do you?” Hal replies and Emma shrugs.

“Probably not but you’re a friend and I take care of my friends,” she tells him. Hal inclines his head.

“I’d prefer it if you forget that you ever saw me,” he answers. She nods again but she doubts that she ever will.

Emma steps out of the shop and turns as Jamie follows. She looks at Hal who stands just inside of the entrance and they stare at each other for a long time. She sees Leo and the girl come to stand on either side of him and the message isn’t lost on her. Hal is being taken care of and protected. For a brief moment she envies that.  She smiles faintly.

“Take care of yourself,” she tells him. Hal’s look is steady.

“And you,” he replies.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma and Hal have a final meeting. This chapter is set post season four finale. 
> 
> I must also clarify that this fic was originally written before the events of season five unfolded.

**Chapter Six:**

**_Present Day._ **

Everything is in chaos.

Emma surveys the blackened blown apart hull of the building that housed the obliterated remains of twelve Old Ones. The explosion had pulverised them, they were gone as in completely proper dead. The most shocking revelation was the fact that Mr Snow had been there and now he is in the ether with eleven other compatriots.

London is threatening anarchy; Bristol is close to falling apart and Barry itself…well…

Rumour has it an old friend of hers has taken residence in Barry and she wants to see whether it’s true or not.

* * *

 

The little bell above the door jangles with annoying jocularity as she enters the café. She glances irritably up at it as she pauses and looks around at the empty tables, at the neat collection of ketchup bottles and salt and pepper cellars on each surface and she barely represses a shudder. It all seems too…depressing, so… _pathetic_ somehow.As she returns her attention to the counter she sees him emerge from a back room, an expression of hesitant welcome on his face that promptly fades when he sees her.

“Emma,” he greets neutrally.

“Hal…or are you going by another name now, you don’t look like a Harold to me somehow.” 

The faintest of smiles crosses Hal’s face as he comes around the counter. “It’s Hal. It always was. What are you doing here Emma?”

“Catching up with old friends. Join me for a coffee old friend or is it too busy for you?” She makes a show of looking around at the empty tables.

His answering smile remains barely there.

“No, not too busy. Take a seat.” Emma watches him disappear briefly from view.

* * *

 

 He returns carrying two white squat coffee cups. He places one in front of her and then slides into the seat opposite. For a moment they just look at each other. She has to admit, he looks good.

“Last I knew you were in Southend.”

“I was. We ended up here a few months ago.”

“To do with the War Child?” Hal just shrugs.

“Then Mr Snow found you?” She watches how Hal’s gaze flicks over to the corner of the room for a moment before looking back at her.

“As I discovered, he never really lost me. He knew where I was all along and just let me have the time off.” He looks down at his cup.

“Hmm…he’s a sly one or at least he was,” Emma comments and takes a sip of her coffee. It’s hot and not too strong, how she likes it. 

“So why weren’t you in that warehouse?” she asks. Hal looks at her.

“I could ask you the same question.”

“Unavoidable delays I’m afraid. London keeps me busy. Plus between you and me, I wasn’t all that interested in what a baby had to offer us good or bad, they’re noisy messy things.” She pretends to shudder and Hal smiles faintly.

“Well it saved your life. What are you doing here Emma?”

“I heard a rumour that you were here and I have a proposition for you.” She watches the wary expression that crosses his face. She leans forward, resting her elbows on the surprisingly clean table top.

“We’re losing order in the major cities Hal. Bristol is teetering and London is threatening anarchy. They need someone like you to step in and uphold it. They need a figurehead again. We need you to help to take control.”

“You have London Emma and now it’s completely yours. You’re the oldest one left am I right?”

“You are but I can’t do it by myself. I need you Hal. We could do it together. It could be like old times.” She hears him sigh and he sits back in his chair. He shakes his head.

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean _can’t_?” she demands and Hal frowns.

“I mean that I don’t want to,” he elucidates.

“It’s been over fifty five years, close to seventy since…”

“The cycle is still on-going Emma and I won’t do anything to jeopardise it. Nothing has changed.”

“Except that the life you lived in Southend is now here, the arse end of South Wales. Are you really satisfied with your lot? With your jailer and his warden watching your every moment. Where _are_ they by the way?” She sits forward and glares at him. “You don’t have to do any of this, you could walk back today and you’d be immediately accepted…lauded even,” she retaliates irritably but Hal’s gaze is steady.

“I know and to answer your question then yes I am. I’m as happy as I’m ever going to be here in South Wales. London _is_ yours, it always has been and I’m sure you’ll find someone else to take control in Bristol, I’m sure they’re chomping at the bit. I’m not interested, not anymore. I want to be left alone.”

“You’re making a big mistake, you do realise that don’t you?”

“Then it’s my mistake to make.” He gets to his feet.

“It’s been… _interesting_ to see you again Emma but I must request that you don’t come back.” She frowns.

“I remember you telling me about your cycles, of how long they last and by my reckoning this one should be coming to an end, it’s why I came here.”

“Then you’ve had a wasted journey. I’m sorry but the answer is still no.”

“I won’t be the only one to pay you a visit with the same request you know.” She watches as Hal retreats to behind the counter. He seems to take a deep breath as he faces her.

“I know. My answer will always be the same.”

“You’re awfully confident about that.” Hal shrugs nonchalantly.

“So that’s it?” Emma exclaims and he regards her calmly.

“That’s it,” he confirms.

Hal watches her leave and he knows that he won’t see her again. He feels a faint pang as he remembers their times together.

* * *

 

Hal is close to dropping with exhaustion by the time he walks through the door. Last night was a full moon and working by himself at the café today while Tom recovered at home was almost more than he could handle but he didn’t want to let him down and in turn he didn’t want to let Leo down. As he closes the door, Tom comes into view, happy, smiling Tom who several months ago he despised. Now he considers him a friend.

“Dinner’ll be ready soon if yer ‘ungry,” he tells him and Hal quietly sighs.

“I’ve already eaten thanks; I think I’ll just…” He points to the staircase and he sees Tom’s expression change.

“Oh…okay…” he answers and it makes him feel guilty.

“I’ll have something later then, save me some,” he compromises and Tom smiles that childishly innocent smile that is a contradiction in terms given what he turns into once a month. It makes him feel marginally better.

* * *

 

Hal climbs the stairs with heavy footsteps and heads to his room almost gratefully.

Every muscle in his body aches and he just wants to sleep but he knows that he can’t, not right now or he won’t be able to sleep when he needs to.

He hadn’t been completely shocked by Emma’s reappearance at the cafe today. To be honest he’s been expecting her to show her face since the explosion at the docks. He’s been expecting her to make a bid for absolute power or to ask his assistance while she did. She doesn’t need his help; she’ll do well enough by herself.

He remembers what he told her about his cycles and how this one was a cycle still in progress.

He wasn’t being completely truthful; for the last few weeks he’s been sensing a change inside of him, a change that unsettles him.

Someone is clawing their way to the surface.

 

                                                                                              **~END~**

 

 


End file.
